


and the lives we live

by clizzyhours



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: (anxiety that i project with), 3.13/3.14 was horrifying with this, Angst, Anxiety, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Set early 3B, also fuck jordan kyle, i plan on writing more happy and hopeful and recovery maia fics!!, maia robert deserved better, maia roberts deserves better, maia-centric, mentions of blood and implied violence (werewolf transformation), not jordan kyle friendly, shadowhunters: we forgot about maia's abuse, warnings: abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2019-06-13
Packaged: 2020-05-07 09:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19206781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clizzyhours/pseuds/clizzyhours
Summary: Maia does not forget nor she does forgive. She can’t.





	and the lives we live

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the warnings. maia roberts deserves better,  
> thank you so much!

Maia does not forget nor she does forgive. She can’t.

The weeks of moodiness she endured from Jordan, the crawling anxiety as each mood left a bitter aftertaste. The lies and excuses and the ugliness.

She can recall the sheer terror she had felt, the lonely abandonment and the horrifying change of shifting into something - creature out of a story or folklore.

She remembers the cold night and the pouring rain, shivering and left bloody. The bleeding from her neck and the looming fear that no one would ever find her.

She can remember every detail of the horrid night and the overall abuse and thinking this is what love got me, sinking into her bones and feeling a cacophony of grief, sorrow, resentment.

It had felt unending and god, when she had attacked the girl in her frightened state, the feeling of losing control and the overwhelming horror, every emotion and feeling multiplied. What did I do? Maia had questioned.

Her bloody fingers, hands. Luke’s gentle words and the back of the ambulance and a flurry of -

so much.

Jordan’s return brings these aching feelings back and she can’t.

She can’t.

She doesn’t deserve this. She can’t, can’t, can’t and now she’s trapped in this room, the walls are closing in and she can’t breathe. Not with him.

She can’t do this. She’s needs to get out. Maia needs anyone but him. She needs to get out, it’s a playing mantra inside of her head.

She can’t breathe and she feels anxiety seizing, overtaking.

In what feels like forever, the door is pried open and she’s being embraced by Simon, all love and warmth.

She still can’t breathe and she whispers, “get me out of here. Please Simon, get me out of here.”

She doesn’t know what will happen to Jor- him, and she frankly doesn’t give a damn.

Simon leads her far, far, far away and she is lost in a hazy daze.

The streets are dark with lights illuminating their way, everything a blur blur blur and she doesn’t even realize they are at her apartment until their immediate arrival.

Simon’s hands are gentle but she doesn’t want them on her right now. She can’t. She can’t.

Maia needs to get inside and to breathe and to shower.

Warm food and pajamas and the security of her home where she get herself into a safer state.

Inside her apartment, Maia feels an immediate rush of reassurance. She insists on Simon leaving and she promises to text later.

She locks all the doors and windows. Her hands touch the walls and she places her hands on every surface, grounding herself in familiarity.

She’s home, she’s home, she’s home.

Maia slides to the floor and breathes in and out over and over again. Her heart calms and she can feel her anxiety lessening.

She sits there for a long, long while until she’s absolutely sure she can breathe and move and get up.

Maia goes through a routine with a hot shower, food, and the call of bed.

She’s safe, she’s safe, she’s safe.

She slips into her warm bed and tucks herself in, wrapping blankets around for protection. Like she’s a small child in desperate need of comfort.

She is in a sense.

For now, she breathes and in the morning, the promise of recovery will come.


End file.
